


To the Nonfictional You

by gamblers



Category: Haikyuu!!, 銀の匙 | Silver Spoon
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marriage & Divorce, Mentioned Infidelity, Pastoral Opera, Simmering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamblers/pseuds/gamblers
Summary: We reap what we sow, Komaba Ichirou. Isn’t that the first lesson they teach you in agricultural school?
Relationships: Hachiken Yuugo/Komaba Ichirou, Hachiken Yuugo/Mikage Aki, Komaba Ichirou/Kita Shinsuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	To the Nonfictional You

**Author's Note:**

> A non-linear story that starts a couple years down the line from Chapter 131. Hachiken isn’t the best person, and the ending of this story is far from satisfying. Includes a blatant cameo from Haikyuu!!, but this story can be read without any volleyball cues.
> 
> Title derived from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3Z4YSzgc4E) by Base Ball Bear.

Hachiken calls from time to time, in lieu of the balance sheet that they maintain between one another as acquaintances. Their chats are short and typically weather-related but it sits well with Komaba to touch base like that, especially when the distance between here and Hokkaido starts to foam around his adolescent memories.

Today the preview of Hachiken’s face on his iPad is more pixelated than usual. His 4G is shitty, and Komaba can’t make out the background. The colour of the wallpaper behind him is too timid to be a coffee shop’s, but also too dark to be one of the WeWork offices that Hachiken usually calls out of.

“I’m at the airport lounge,” Hachiken explains. He sounds resigned. “I’ll be landing in Vladivostok at 8PM. Surprise.”

 _Not a real surprise_ , Komaba thinks, considering everything. “Didn’t think you were that into giving surprises.”

“Well I guess I’m spoiling it now, so you’re probably right.”

“What’s this about, Hachiken?”

A pause. Komaba isn’t sure if it’s the laggy connection, or if Hachiken is simply tripping over his thoughts.

“...I wanted to meet in person. Is that alright?”

“Why are you even asking.” Komaba justifies it for him. “Aren’t you already on your way?”

He’ll see Hachiken at the terminal gate.

“Aki and I,” Hachiken hesitates. Now that he’s within actual range, it’s no longer a question of a laggy connection. “You know what’s going on already, don’t you?”

Komaba can’t really lie. “I heard from Mikage.”

They are resting on the same grassy knoll from six years ago, leaning their backs against the lip of monsoon season. Twenty meters away is the baseball field that the local parents’ association had scraped together on a whim for Komaba’s school of baseball brats. The field sees little action nowadays, but it’s still a precious memory to the pack of kids that have lingered in the past to practice their forkballs.

On some occasions when he looks back out at the pitcher’s mound, Komaba forgets when exactly he stopped pressing his expectations into the future. He’s a lot older, now. The number of summers between that year and this one have since melted away with every new crop of soybeans that he rotates into the field.

Hachiken sighs, long and heavy. “I think you were right to stay single, Komaba. I should have never gotten married. Look at where it’s gotten me now.”

Komaba turns to face him directly. “Hey now, look. You guys had a good time together for a few years, isn’t that what counts?”

Vaguely, he recalls having said something similar in the past. He doesn’t know when it became like this, and over the years he has played the role of cheerleader more than he has engaged in the actual sport. Maybe it’s because the mood of love suits Hachiken better. Even when the melancholy drapes over his shoulders, Hachiken seems to look good in it.

“A few years, for a good time.” Hachiken chuckles grimly. “Komaba, is that enough?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore. And I worry about Ringo, of course. Of course she’s young now, but I keep thinking about how she will react later in life, if her parents do end up separating before she even enters grade school.”

Hachiken never brings up his daughter. Ookawa-senpai says that it’s borne from a pathetic internalization of Hachiken’s self-doubt as a father. Komaba isn’t sure if that’s quite right. Aki had uttered something similar to Komaba on the phone. _I wonder how she will take it? If the divorce goes through, I can’t help but feel like we’ve failed her as parents._

They don’t end up talking about it. They also don’t talk about how Komaba’s dreams of owning a piece of foreign land have since dried up, or how Komaba had somehow never managed to find the beautiful Russian bride he had spoken of in the days of their reunion after Oezo.

Instead, Hachiken talks about the detached home that he had purchased last June, after his company went IPO. He talks about investing in a dairy farm in Aomori, and about a new harvesting method that this year’s crop of university students are developing at Ezono University. That night he showers in Komaba’s cramped bathroom and falls asleep on the mattress in Komaba’s spare room. When Komaba gets up early the following morning for a run, he passes by the open door. A plane of light shaved off from the sunrise flickers over Hachiken’s sleeping form. He is momentarily mesmerized by the rise and fall of the light against Hachiken’s breathing.

Next to the bed, there’s a pile of used tissues. Being that it’s evidence of a wearable melancholy, Komaba takes the initiative to clean it up.

When he comes back, Hachiken is standing in Komaba’s bedroom with a frown on his face.

“You have a queen bed.” His tone is accusatory. “I didn’t know you had a queen bed. How dare you sleep in such comfort! Without telling me.”

The sight of a shirtless-Hachiken sitting in his bed feels surreal. Komaba grounds his brain before such a thought can short-circuit it. He shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”

“Because I wouldn’t have expected it.” Hachiken bounces his weight on the mattress. “Aren’t you too utilitarian for this?”

“I got it a couple years back. The person I was seeing at the time had complaints about our sleeping arrangement.”

A couple years back is around the season when Hachiken gets married. GINSAJI undergoes its Series B funding, fairly established now within the animal husbandry sphere in Hokkaido. Ookawa-senpai starts to make regular appearances on the local morning news for zany segments on pig trivia, and Mikage’s father seems to have finally warmed up to his daughter’s future with Hachiken.

It’s a westernized wedding, at a church with a beautiful steeple. Komaba fields the stage as Mikage’s man of honor. One of their classmates in the floral business had splashed the pews with orchids of different shapes and sizes and colours. After losing a bet, best man Ookawa-senpai agrees to foot an extravagant catering menu, which in reality is only supporting Yoshino’s effort to introduce charcuterie boards of cheeses with names that are increasingly difficult to pronounce.

The reception is held at a ranch nearby, where Mikage makes a bold entrance on horseback. A hush falls over the reception as she trots in timidly through the awning of the grove, decked out in a set of fully-white equestrian attire. Accompanied by champagne-flavoured lights and _Canon in D_ melting through the air, it’s practically fairytale princess-like. More guests than just the groom were moved to tears that afternoon.

“Don’t you think this is too extra,” says Mikage nervously, after dismounting from her steed. “I already thought it was too extra during the rehearsal.”

“You just got hitched, Mikage.” Komaba justifies it for her. “Why don’t you go ahead and enjoy your wedding.”

Next to Komaba, Tamako sniffs in agreement. “And it was Minamikujou-san’s idea, wasn’t it? Without her convincing, I doubt that Hachiken would allow for such a display of frivolity.” That being said, she’s just trying to hide the tears in her eyes. “Aki, you look stunning. Won’t you marry me instead?”

Aki laughs easily. “Sure.”

“No fair, Tamako! Hachiken here has already got dibs.” Tokiwa shouts. He is the MC for the night. Hachiken stands next to him at the reception podium, stiff as a plank of petrified wood. Tokiwa thumps him on the back once, and pushes him forward for good measure. “Here’s your prince charming, Aki-chan. You’re tied to him for good now. No take-backs!”

So it became a wedding that everyone would remember for the reception, and not the ceremony.

Toward the evening, he takes a break from making his rounds to rest his legs. Mikage’s father is sitting at the head table, maintaining his usual menacing stance as a mountain of rock.

Komaba bows his head. “Congratulations to you and your family, Mikage-san.”

Mikage Goshi nods at Komaba as he takes a seat. “Happy day, isn’t it?”

There’s something off-colour about the way he says it. Komaba’s about to chalk it up to the excess orchid pollen in the air, until he notices the amount of champagne sloshing around in the wine glass on the table next to him.

“...You know, I always thought she was going to pick you.”

Komaba frowns. “What? What do you mean by that?” 

“Maybe I sort of hoped that you would be her endgame all along.”

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. Komaba motions to a waiter. “Mikage-san, would you like some water? I think you may have had too much to dr—”

Mikage’s dad dismisses him with a grunt. “I meant exactly what I said, Ichirou. Yuugo’s a good kid, but he doesn’t know our Aki the way that you do.” He takes another generous sip from his glass. “And I’m being honest when I say that he’s half the man that you are. I’ve told him this before. He’s lucky that his company is taking off.”

“Is that right?” Komaba feels his jaw clench, very slightly. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s true.”

“How long have our families known each other, Ichirou? You know that I’m right.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that,” Komaba hears himself say. “Hachiken’s a great guy. He’s hard-working and dedicated, and that’s the real reason his company has taken off. He is dedicated to everything that he cares about, and that includes Mikage. His love for her is real. But it’s not just Aki. He’s helped so many people that he didn’t have to. Look at the number of people who came out to support your daughter’s marriage to Hachiken. Yoshino flew back from Europe for this. And I may be here in Aki’s name, but I’d be Hachiken’s best man in a heartbeat. Hachiken is gonna be a great husband and son-in-law. And I truly hope that they will be very, very happy together.” His breathing is off-balance when he finishes his speech.

Behind him, he hears a nervous laugh.

“Wow. Didn’t know you had so much faith in me, Komaba.”

Hachiken is beaming. Against the plane of light shaved off from the sunset, the smile on his face devastates Komaba.

Some days after attending the wedding in Sapporo, he is introduced to Kita-san’s rice farm through one of Ookawa’s business accomplices in Kobe.

“I used to play sports in high school, too. Volleyball.” Kita mimes the motion of a cross-court spike against the sky. “My position was wing spiker. And I was damn good at it! But my teammates were even better. They carried my ass all the way to the Nationals for two years straight. A bunch of them are even playing for Division 1 teams in the V.League right now. Isn’t that amazing?”

The language of sports is truly universal. Komaba cracks a smile. “It’s _is_ amazing that you guys went to Nationals, Kita-san. That was something I could only dream about from my small-timer school in Hokkaido.”

“Well it’s all in the past now, and I’ve definitely lost most of my teenage athleticism. You seem to still have great muscle definition though, Komaba-san. It can’t be all from soybean harvesting, is it?”

In their initial meeting they talk about agriculture far enough to establish some wiggle room for business, but the rest of time is spent discussing fitness goals, and the workouts that Komaba uses to stay in shape. The next time they meet, Kita takes him to a gym that he trains at. This prompts Komaba to share a few calisthenic exercises that he uses to tone his lower back and glutes. As they spread out next to each other on the gym mat, he can feel Kita’s gaze linger on the stretch of his muscles.

The mechanics of romance are difficult. Komaba still doesn’t understand it well, not in the way that you can angle your grip against the seams of it to immediately throw a forkball. Kita is patient. He seems like a pragmatic person with very solid mechanics, but there’s nothing pragmatic about the way he kisses Komaba. They establish a distance-based relationship. Komaba continues to plant soybeans in the winter. Within a year Kita is making semi-regular visits to Amur Oblast.

“You can call me Shinsuke, if you like,” he tells Komaba, after the first time he stays over.

“You should get a new bed,” he suggests, after the third time he stays over. “It’s impractical for two people to be sharing a twin mattress like this.”

“Have you thought about planting barley,” he notes during an impromptu survey of Komaba’s land, after the seventh time he stays over. “Even I was thinking about diverting part of my land in Hyogo for it. Considering your connection with Japan as an expat, the mark-up cost of wheat at home could stand to benefit tremendously from your annual throughput.”

Komaba considers it. “I’ll have to speak with my business partner in Hokkaido about that. I value his opinion on these decisions.” Something catches in his voice as he says it. He can’t bring himself to say Hachiken’s name to Shinsuke.

After the 11th time he stays over, Shinsuke doesn’t say much. He gets in bed early that night and in the morning when Komaba wakes, he shifts his arm up to cushion his head against his palm. The expression on his face is precariously soft. “Ichirou. You’ve left the lights on for someone else, haven’t you?”

It’s not a question.

“That business partner in Hokkaido. Who is he to you?”

This is a question, but it’s one that Komaba doesn’t have an answer to.

“I see. Now that just doesn’t make for a good romance.”

There isn’t a 12th time.

_Who is he to you?_ The words echo in his thoughts for several seasons.

It had probably started years ago, when Hachiken had visited him in Amur Oblast for the first time. Throughout that weekend, he pitches one easy ball after another. Hachiken’s immediate refusal to do business with him stings a bit, but it’s not like he won’t get over it. So why does he care so much?

It’s only until right before Hachiken boards the train at the Trans-Siberian station back to Vladivostok, that he starts to recognize the rhythm being played out in his chest. But the train doors are already open.

“Hachiken, wait.” Before Komaba can properly think about what he’s doing, he is extending his arm, and grabbing Hachiken by the shoulder. The warmth from Hachiken’s body radiates out to his skin.

“What is it?”

“Ah, it’s just.” He retracts his hand. “Never mind.”

Hachiken shakes his head. “You were about to say something.”

The departure announcement blares in the background. Travelers are starting to rush for the aisles with empty seats. Hachiken doesn’t look away from Komaba.

“...I just had a thought.” He takes a deep breath. “Why don’t we call each other more often? I’m gonna be sad if our friendship gets reduced to catching up with each other through some social media posts. So if you’re free to, you should call me.”

The platform buzzer sounds; the doors on the train are to close in 60 seconds.

“Yeah,” says Hachiken, puzzled. “Of course. I’ll call.”

30 seconds.

“I’ll see you around, Komaba.”

0 seconds.

What had he expected anyway, some kind of love confession? No way. This is not the right timeline for that.

When he walks back from the station to the rural road where he parked his car, his brain is numb. The sky is so blue today and the clouds are so thick, surely they can stand to cushion some of his rougher thoughts.

He does go back to visit though, if only to appease his mother’s complaints that his obsession with planting soybeans in Russia has gotten entirely out of hand. In the spring before Hachiken’s company goes IPO, he flies back to Hokkaido for a weekend trip. It’s Hachiken’s daughter’s birthday, and also cherry blossom season. At the airport gift shop in Vladivostok, he purchases a last-minute souvenir for Ringo.

“Babushka dolls,” Hachiken observes dryly, when his daughter opens the box and squeals in delight. “How original, Komaba.”

Komaba shrugs. “She seems to like them just fine. The shop associate told me that these are too big to be a choking hazard.”

“She’s five years old,” says Hachiken. “She’s past the age for things to be a choking hazard. Don’t you have younger sisters? I thought you would know how to do this.”

Aki smiles at them both. “Thank you for the gift, Icchan. They’re lovely.”

Mikage takes the day off from teaching equestrian lessons. The three of them take Ringo for a walk to the shrine. It is located at the top of a hill, and the wooden steps carved up the path are worn and rickety. Ringo trips over the steps one by two by two. It’s a beautiful day. The sky is so blue and the clouds are so thick.

He gets a call just then, just as the gods have finished watching him pray for a comfortable soybean harvest next season. Kita’s pensive stare glows on the Facetime preview on his phone.

“I can’t talk right now,” he explains when he picks up. “It’s my friend’s daughters birthday.”

“Oh,” says Kita. “Later, then.” And hangs up.

“Need to be somewhere else?” Hachiken asks him, when his daughter and his wife have trailed further down to the bottom of the hill.

“Ah, no. That was my ex-boyfriend.” He can’t really lie. Hachiken has already seen Shinsuke’s face. And it’s easier to say ex, he thinks. Otherwise it’s hard to describe what Shinsuke is to him, and how they still see each once in a while when the weather in Hyogo gets too lonely.

Hachiken stops walking. “...You had a boyfriend? And he’s Japanese?”

“Yes.”

“Like, you dated him?”

“Yes.”

“And you guys like, held hands and kissed and stuff.”

He closes his eyes. At that moment, he is slightly irritated. Just what did it matter? “We did more than just that, Hachiken.”

When he calls back later, Shinsuke ends it with him for good. He’s found someone new. Or not really new, per se, because the person he’s seeing now had formerly been a one-sided love from high school. He knows it’s sudden, but he figures it is best to say it loudly and immediately than to let things boil dry in the background. And it’s not really fair for him to apologize, since he hadn’t asked Komaba to apologize, either. They had both left the lights on for other people. So isn’t this supposedly a good thing, after all?

It’s a better reaction from Hachiken than he could have hoped for, really. His family had not taken it nearly as well. And Shinsuke is right. He had always left the lights on for someone else. But that’s neither here nor there, is it?

It’s neither here nor there. Unlike Hachiken, who is currently here, and has arbitrarily decided to extend his unplanned visit for another three nights. On the second night, they go for another walk in the evening along the neighbourhood baseball field.

“I keep thinking about you dating a man,” Hachiken confesses. He can’t seem to look Komaba in the eye. “I heard more about him from Aki. Some rice farmer from Hyogo, who played volleyball in high school. What was he like?”

Komaba presses his lips together. “We dated for a few years. It didn’t work out.” What is there to know?

Shinsuke had wanted the queen-sized bed, so he’d bought it. Shinsuke had wanted to see the golden fields in Russia, so he’d opened up a path in his heart. Shinsuke had wanted him to plant barley on his land in the colder months, and now he does. Shinsuke had wanted a lot of things. But ultimately Komaba was the one who hadn’t been able to keep up.

“Fucking another man,” Hachiken is mumbling, now. His ears are pink. “What was that like?”

Komaba doesn’t move. As if frozen by the idea, or the air around him has gone cold. It feels like whiplash; one minute he’s still listing regrets that he’s had with Shinsuke, the next minute Hachiken is thrusting _this_ into his arms. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, he hears how hoarse and low his voice has gotten. “Is that something you wanted to find out?”

Later, behind the grain silo and in the same place where Komaba’s memories fade the sharpest, Hachiken kisses him first.

Back at his apartment, they make out slowly in his room. Komaba takes time to detach from his thoughts. He focuses on the strands of Hachiken’s hair between his fingers, the grip of Hachiken’s hand on his torso, the mold of Hachiken’s lips against his. Hachiken’s lips are dry but soft and they chap a little against his. Even so, the mood that angles into Komaba’s bed feels plastic. “Shit,” says Hachiken, in between kisses murmured into Komaba’s neck. “I really like you. I think I always did, even if it was just a little bit.”

Komaba pulls back.

“Hachiken,” he says quietly. “I left Hokkaido because of you.”

So what if it's the truth. Hachiken’s expression remains unchanged. It’s so blue and the clouds in his heart are so thick, surely they can stand to cushion these rough thoughts for a bit longer.

There had always existed a tread of feelings between the two of them. Komaba just isn’t sure that this is what Hachiken wants. His heart is pumping fast enough for it to not feel real at all.

Komaba moves one hand down to stroke Hachiken’s thigh, cautiously deepening the kiss to slide his tongue into Hachiken’s mouth. They kiss like that for a while, until Hachiken is panting softly underneath him, eyes shining and lips swollen. The sight of this makes his vision go dark. He kisses a line down Hachiken’s throat, moving one hand down to stroke his own cock. When Hachiken gasps beneath him, he looks like everything Komaba has only seen in his dreams. He presses his erection into Hachiken’s leg. Hachiken’s fingers freeze for a moment, gripped around his arm. The stillness startles him. Komaba stops breathing. Maybe he’s going too far.

“I want to touch you,” Hachiken murmurs, moments later. And suddenly his hands are grasping at the waistband of Komaba’s jeans, pulling at the fabric. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck,” he groans into Hachiken’s neck, feeling Hachiken’s fingers climb below his boxers and dig into his cock. He bites down on the soft pocket of skin at the base of Hachiken’s throat. Hachiken gasps in reply, and moves to tug Komaba’s shirt over his head. After his shirt comes off, he goes back to kissing Hachiken’s neck, moving lower each time until he’s teasing Hachiken’s nipple with his tongue. Hachiken arches his back in response to this, squirming under his mouth. Komaba plants wet, open-mouthed kisses across Hachiken’s chest. His own chest hurts. He wants to kiss Hachiken until his lips go numb.

“Did you want me to…”

Hachiken only nods. He grabs Komaba’s hand and moves it downward, until Komaba can feel Hachiken’s cock, hard and trembling against his touch. The tip is smeared wet with precum. “More,” Hachiken moans, as Komaba brushes his thumb against the slit. “I want you, Komaba,” he whispers.

The need in his voice stirs something hot in Komaba, brazen and unidentifiable, digging deep to settle its roots in his heart. He moves his hand down to Hachiken’s thighs and spreads Hachiken’s legs apart. Next he slides his fingers back up to circle around Hachiken’s entrance, slowly. Hachiken bucks his hips up in response. He nudges one finger into Hachiken’s hole. The friction of dry skin makes Hachiken cry out and clamp one hand shut over his own mouth. “Easy,” Komaba mutters. “Relax, now.” Hachiken whimpers. He looks so hot like this, his hair messed up and his mouth wet from kissing too much. His other hand is still wrapped obstinately along Komaba’s cock, stroking it up and down until Komaba starts to lose it again.

He reaches over to the side of his bed and all but knocks over the nightstand, fumbling for the lubricant that he had bought several months prior. The bottle has been collecting dust in his drawer. He doesn’t really need it when he jerks off, and neither do the women that he takes home on an odd weekend in the city, so he hasn’t used it since he’d last fucked a man.

He slides one lubed finger into Hachiken, who shudders slightly in discomfort. He slows the movement of his finger and kisses Hachiken again. “It’s okay, take a deep breath.” Hachiken’s breathing slows and in the next second he’s moaning again and biting down on his lips, fingers scrabbling to grip onto the hard muscles on Komaba’s back. Immediately Komaba can tell that he’s not going to last. Hachiken’s asshole puckers around his index finger, and he feels the slick of lube around it as if it were around his own cock. 

He stretches Hachiken’s asshole with his finger, and slowly adds a second finger. A small scream escapes Hachiken’s lips and his hips buck forward again. “Fuck,” he cries out, as Komaba stretches him wider.

Komaba slides his fingers out, leaving Hachiken aching momentarily before letting him feel something larger rub up against his hole. Komaba pushes into him then, and watches Hachiken’s eyes completely glaze over. The noises he makes as Komaba thrusts into him are entirely obscene. Hachiken is so warm and tight, and Komaba’s mind blanks until all he can focus on is fucking Hachiken deeper into the mattress, and how fucking _good_ Hachiken feels on his cock.

He watches Hachiken arch his back. Watches Hachiken’s fingers dig into his arms as he shoves his cock deep inside Hachiken’s tight, hot ass. There are words in his mouth but he doesn’t know if he’s saying them or not. Hachiken drags him down by the back of his neck to capture his mouth with another kiss. Komaba shifts his hips and angles into Hachiken deeper, and fucks him slow enough that both of them see stars.

Hachiken comes first, crying out sharply with his fingers in his mouth. Komaba comes with a shudder soon after.

Much later, he can still taste the mood of the plastic in his mouth.

“The truth is,” Hachiken says. “I was unfaithful.”

Komaba is not surprised.

“He came up to me first. He... said a lot of things that were so nice, and I was flattered.”

“Hachiken.” Komaba rubs his eyes. He is tired. “You could have told him ‘No’.”

“He was really so good-looking.”

“And Aki isn’t?”

“I think I was taken by surprise. I never figured that I liked men at all, you know? But maybe if the right person came along, I thought it would work out.”

Komaba doesn’t know what to say. Most likely he didn’t want to say anything.

But that’s not entirely right, is it? In the four years after Ezono, he’s already said what he has wanted to say many times, and in many ways. _Come to Russia, Hachiken. Stay here with me. Let’s keep working together in the future._

_I just wanted our relationship to last._

But that’s only a half-truth. He hadn’t just wanted their relationship to last. He had wanted more than that. He had wanted an exact measurement of Hachiken to stay in his life.

Maybe he had never said anything because those words had never fit correctly into their timeline. All he remembers are the calls from Hachiken’s home in the months after Hachiken’s company went IPO. Hearing Aki’s voice trail from the kitchen of Hachiken’s detached home, telling Hachiken about the Napolitan spaghetti she had reheated for dinner. The high-pitched giggling from Hachiken’s daughter accompanying a Disney Channel cartoon in the background. The delight of domesticity at Mikage’s, perfectly balanced against the future. How could he be the one to say anything to that?

He had never believed in casual, undefined reincarnation. The next season would bring in a new crop of soybeans, he’ll wake up and take a walk around the empty dugout during the lip of monsoon season in Amur Oblast, and his feelings for Hachiken would slow down a little bit more. There's a memory to those emotions, if he had chosen to see it. As the soil erodes further across the line, more phone calls will lose their meaning. His mother will tell him to come home more often. At night he will take his vitamins and gain muscle definition in the absence of sleep. And then it will be the new year.

What he hadn’t factored into the timeline was Aki calling him, prior to any balance sheet he kept with Hachiken.

“We had it finalized last autumn.” She gives him very little time to process any of it. “I’m past my self-imposed moratorium so I thought I’d let you know first. But it isn’t like him to tell you anyway. He hasn’t said a word about this to you, has he?”

Komaba has to shrug. “You know him better than me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I know you better, too.” There's a question in there, lost somewhere in the weeds. She clarifies it further by saying, “Anyway, when did it start? Your feelings for him, I mean.”

“Aki, I....”

“ _Really_ , Icchan.” Her laughter pulls at him, making him feel so much younger than he had the right to be. “Did you think you could fool anybody?”

It's the reluctance of his heart. The flower of a fruit planted years ago, taking shape now across an unstable phone line. “No,” he admits to her. “Least of all, you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I continue to imagine the downfall of late-game Hachiken to be his inability to say no, reminiscent of Kyouichi from Mizushiro Setona’s “[The Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cornered_Mouse_Dreams_of_Cheese)”.
> 
> maybe things change though, who knows. enough time will change anybody
> 
> 2/21/2021 - wrote a kita-centric [b-side](https://splitpush.tumblr.com/post/643786122401628160) to this on tumblr


End file.
